


His Future Starts in the Past

by taibhrigh



Category: Blade (Movie Series)
Genre: M/M, Psychic Abilities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-07
Updated: 2012-06-07
Packaged: 2017-11-07 03:04:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/426232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taibhrigh/pseuds/taibhrigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal has always had a hidden talent. One he hadn't listened to and that had led him to Danica and five years of vampire hell until he could be <em>rescued and cured</em>. Now that talent was telling him danger was coming. Danger that could change the world. This time he was listening but will the future be what he expects or was his past hiding something important from him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Future Starts in the Past

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [siluria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/siluria) for the beta.
> 
> This was written for smallfandomfest #11 on LJ.

~~~***~~~

Hannibal bolted upright in bed. He could feel the sweat on his forehead and back. He hated that dream. That nightmare. It was now coming almost every night and he knew he was going to have to do something about it.

The last time he had ignored this type of dream it had ended with him spending five years of his life as Danica's bitch. The cure had been a blessing and a curse. He wasn't _dead_ anymore, but he wasn't exactly _alive_ either. He wasn't completely human. Not that anyone would have called him human before if they had known he could sometimes see the future. Freak was the word that came to mind.

The cure seemed to have increased his natural talents and added a few more. He was definitely stronger and more agile but he played those down. The cure had been a work in progress--made from some part of Blade's, the hybrid human/vampire hunter, own blood--when he'd been injected with it. He wasn't sure if it had been improved or not and he wasn't going to draw that kind of attention to himself by asking.

He climbed out of bed. There would be no going back to sleep. Plus, he was going to need to get into the ship's hold and find one piece of junk among all the other junk he'd stolen from Danica.

Hannibal stripped as he walked to his shower. The hot water loosened his tense muscles and allowed him to relax, allowed him to slow the dream down so he could try to decipher it.

It always started with a stone structure out in the desert. Beautiful and new with a wide stone road leading up to zigzag stairs and ramps. There were flowering plants and a few trees and Hannibal could feel both the newness of the temple and the weight of thousands of years. The images flashed about as if he was pushing fast-forward on a remote until they stopped when a great warrior stood near the top landing of the temple. The sun was just beginning to set and the temple had aged, and showed signs of a battle. So did the warrior. His blades were dripping with blood as was the man's mouth. The man licked the blood from his hand then lifted a blade and ran his tongue through the blood on the steel before swallowing.

When the man turned, as if looking directly at Hannibal, he licked his lips and Hannibal could see fangs. The man turned and walked the rest of the way into the temple, turning only once to see if Hannibal was following.

Hannibal felt drawn to the man and followed, after all it was only a dream. A memory he was pulling from somewhere else. A prophetic dream that had to start in the past before it could move forward.

There were no servants as the man, the vampire, began to strip out of his battle armor. In moments the man stood naked save for a small stone amulet that hung from a cord around the man's neck. Hannibal stared, the vampire made him hard, made him want, and no vampire had done that before, during, or after his time with Danica.

There was a ripple under the vampire's skin but Hannibal ignored it as he watched the man roll his strong shoulders trying to relieve them of some unknown tension. He walked up a short set of stairs and then almost instantly down another. A bath. For a moment Hannibal thought he could smell sandalwood and spices and then the man was submerging himself.

Hannibal walked closer to the steps, but the man reappeared. Or something reappeared. It was as tall as the vampire but it looked like stone--no bone-- covered the skin. The man's mouth opened to reveal a split jaw and razor sharp teeth. Hannibal continued to stare even as the _monster_ reverted back to his very human-looking appearance with a smile. 

"I am Drac," the man said, just before the images sped up again.

Drac. Dracul. Drake. Not to be confused with the Romanian Prince, Vlad the Impaler. No, Drake. The son of Lilith. The first vampire. And a daywalker to boot.

Hannibal stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist before walking to his desk chair and sitting down. He needed to process the rest instead of ignoring it. Ignoring it had gotten him no sleep for the last week. Ignoring it was going to get him killed.

Blade came and went in the visions of the past. Still an ass and not willing to work with anyone. Taking out the council. The myth of LaMagra. The battle where Whistler Senior was found and Hannibal wasn't sure if anyone had actually told Abby her father was alive. Then came the events he knew hadn't happened.

An arrowhead filled with green liquid. Whistler's second death. Drake standing with Danica and her brother. A stab wound to his chest. Abby lying dead. Blade rampaging through a city, more feral than anyone ever thought the hybrid would go. Zoe, a vampire stuck in a child's body. Abby, a vampire. Sommerfield and Hedges dead--drained. Blade killing him. Drake lying on top of him, drinking his blood. Zoe being drained by Danica while he was forced to watch. Blade disappearing. He saw himself chained to a wall waiting for rescue that came. That didn't come. The vampires turning to ash. Being turned by Danica again. An unexplained airborne virus killing hundreds of thousands of people. A stone amulet. Peace. Revenge. Death. The world being bled dry. Nothingness.

Hannibal knew the images represented different futures. He even knew where the forks in the road were. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed. He pulled on clothes, not even bothering to see what he was wearing. He needed to get to the ship before anyone woke up.

~~~***~~~

He quietly navigated the corridors until he was inside cargo hold two--the _Drake Vault_. It was time to put his Psychometry talents to the test. His great-grandmother had called it token reading, but Parapsychology now called it something else. He didn't care what you called it as long as it worked. He normally avoided concentrating on things he held--some visions were best left in the past but he had always been better at seeing the past than the future. It was also the one that caused the most pain--at least that's what he thought. He began moving around the room hoping something would pop out at him. Nothing did. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His grandmother had told him he lacked patience and clarity. He couldn't argue against that.

He breathed in and out and began slowly walking the room with eyes still closed. He could easily picture the stacks and crates. The pieces of pottery, a broken sword, half of a piece of armor. A piece of stone that looked like the skin from Drake's other self but Hannibal realized came from a statue just inside the temple.

He stopped. When he opened his eyes he was standing in front of a crate that hadn't yet been opened. Prying the lid open was fairly easy. There was no packing list, just hay and other packing material. Hannibal reached into the box and felt around. At the very bottom, in one corner, his fingers bumped up against something small. He pulled it from the box and nearly dropped it in shock. 

There, in his open palm, rested a stone amulet that looked almost like the one he had seen around Drake's neck in the visions of the past and future. Almost. The one Drake had worn was colored with reds and browns and when the vampire had been in his other form it had just been visible in the darkness of the outer bone coverings. 

This amulet was a blue so dark it almost appeared black. It was smooth and warm and Hannibal ran his fingers lightly over it. The design and shape was the same as Drake's.

Another deep breath and Hannibal curled his fingers around it and almost stumbled. The visions were clearer, more real and none were good. He opened his eyes and checked his watch. He had time to get out. Time to wipe the video. He needed to think. 

He put the lid back on the crate and quietly hammered the nails back into place before stacking another box on top. He backed out of the room and went directly to the surveillance room. The tapes were set on 8 hour loops and he simply reset the loop to start at four in the morning instead of two--wiping away all evidence of his comings and goings.

He detoured to the armory and pulled all the ammo for the guns Hedges had made for him. He'd told the other man he was running low so the missing clips wouldn't look abnormal. Neither would him disappearing for a few days.

He was off the ship with seven minutes to spare and pulling away from the dock with two.

~~~***~~~

Less than ten hours later Hannibal had _booked_ himself passage on a cargo ship heading to the Mediterranean. He shaved, cut his hair back and put on clothes that fit. He looked like a completely different person. More like the person he was before Danica. The amulet was on a cord around his neck and he knew where he was going. And he was definitely going to be gone for more than a few days.

The other hunters would look for him, especially after the way he'd left his small apartment. It looked ransacked, like a struggle had occurred. That had been an accident in his mad dash to pack, but it was going to work in his favor. As was the fact that he didn't have a tracker--he'd been putting that off and was supposed to finally let Sommerfield inject it into him later in the week. That wouldn't be happening now.

He was going to have to work on a plan now though because he didn't think winging it would be in his best interest. He didn't speak the language and he was going to stick out with his pale skin and North American voice unless he spoke French instead of English the entire time. He did have Euros along with American and Canadian currency. Maybe he had always been planning an exit strategy and just never realized it--somewhere in the back of his mind he must have been worried the other hunters would realize that he wasn't as cured as they thought.

The plan began to form. He needed a jeep or some similar type of vehicle. It needed the ability to carry extra gasoline. He needed supplies: water, food, clothes, sleeping bag, and blood. He was going to need blood if he planned to wake the King of Vampires.

~~~***~~~

Hannibal didn't remember his trip through Turkey or crossing over the Euphrates or even half his drive through Syria. He did it all on autopilot as if following a signal only he could hear. He thought he should be frightened but he wasn't and that was the part that was scaring him. He had stopped only when he needed supplies.

Now he was sitting in the jeep with the engine off staring up at a large ziggurat temple that appeared on no maps, one that seemed to have just risen out of the desert in front of him. He wondered how many lost souls had wandered into the safety of the structure during a sand storm or looking for help only to be taken by what slumbered within. He drank from the bottle of water sitting between his legs and finished off the protein bar.

He was armed though he didn't think his guns would stop Drake but he wasn't going to risk leaving them in the jeep. He climbed out of the jeep and tossed the empty water bottle on the back floorboard before pulling out the large hiking backpack that he'd already loaded with supplies. He also took the camping lamp and the small medical cooler that held ten packets of blood he'd stolen from a hospital in Turkey. He'd changed out the ice or break-n-snap ice bags as often as he could. He'd even added two bags that contained his own blood just in case.

Hannibal pulled out two light tan-colored tarps and fastened them around the jeep. From a distance the jeep would just look like a mound of sand and they would give the vehicle a moderate level of protection from the elements. 

He shrugged into the backpack, lifted the cooler and lamp in his right hand and stroked the amulet with his left before beginning the ascent up the stairs.

There was a temperature change once he stepped into the doorway of the temple caused by the slight breeze that moved through the open spots in the temple walls. From below he hadn't realized they were small windows. He closed his eyes, imagining the temple as it was in his visions. When he opened his eyes his mind adjusted to what he was seeing--the present overlain by the past.

Hannibal followed the path that Drake had taken, that he himself had followed in the dream. Down hallways, turning first right, then climbing a set of stairs and going to the left. Then down another hallway. Two large stone doors blocked his way. He doubted they had been opened in more than a thousand years.

He pushed on the left one and it didn't budge. Neither did the one on the right. He let his head rest against the small valley where the doors came together. His hands resting on other side. He could feel the intricate designs that had been carved into the doors and slowly slid his hands across the patterns. His left hand slid across a design with five circular holes. He slid his fingers into the holes and turned the design first to the right and then back to the left and around. There was a click and then the door moved slightly.

Hannibal lifted his head and used his whole body to push the door open just enough for him to squeeze through if he took the pack off. He pushed the cooler and lamp through and then the pack before shimmying through himself. He pushed the door closed and heard the lock re-engage. If this didn't work he didn't think he'd be leaving and there was no use risking anyone else's life who might wander in after.

Drake's chambers. The silk tapestries that had hung from the wall were long gone. As were the sheets and pillows off to the left where there was a raised sleeping platform. Hannibal walked slowly to the steps he knew would lead to the bath. There was no water, no scents of sandalwood, of spice. The room seemed bereft; especially in the light the lamp gave off.

He stepped away from the bath, grabbed up the items he had brought and walked to the raised platform that would have been Drake's bed and sat down on the hard stone surface. It was now or never.

Hannibal loosened his boots enough that he could slide his feet out of them and then shoved the socks into them. His feet touched the stone surface and he was surprised by the chill even through the thin layer of dust and sand that had managed to work its way into the room. He rooted through the pack for one of the stoppered vials and laid it down next to his thigh before taking his shirt off. He had been dressed this way in several of the visions. He was sure it was a clue but wasn't sure how it fit.

He unstopped the vial and dabbed the scented liquid on his arms and chest before adding a little to his neck and throat. It was as close to the scent of the bath water as he could manage. He knew that meant something too. He resealed the vial and left it on the platform.

Popping the latch on the medical cooler sent a chill through the air and Hannibal quickly grabbed three of the pouches. Debating with himself he grabbed a fourth and one of his. To be safe he cracked another of the chill packs and put it into the cooler. He doubted there would be need for the other two in his pack.

Hannibal didn't even look back as he grabbed up the lamp and walked to the other side of the bath. To where the walls looked like they connected. It was a building illusion as there was a passageway hidden in the way the walls were layered on top of one another. 

He started his descent and was sure the beating of his heart was going to give him away.

~~~***~~~

As soon as his feet touched a floor made only of sand Hannibal knew he was underground; several hundred feet under the temple. He stepped out of the passageway and into a large open room. When he looked up at the ceiling his lamp caught on a carved and painted mural of whorls and circles and he knew which one marked the spot where Drake rested.

He knew that right now he could pour chemicals into the sand that might cause harm, that he could bring the temple down with explosives. That while he couldn't kill Drake he could make sure no one could wake him up.

But Hannibal did none of that. He put the lamp down on the sand and moved in closer, walking a circle around where Drake slept. He pulled a knife from his belt and sliced open two of the blood packets and gently began pouring them into the sand while he walked the circle. The blood didn't instantly start to seep into the sand until the sand began moving. Hannibal opened the next two packets and repeated the process. The sand seemed to be funneling, parting in the center and that's when he sliced his own packet of blood and slowly poured it into the center that was ever widening.

And then Drake was just there; standing in his other form. Hannibal had a moment to blink before he was being pulled forward and felt the other form's mouth biting into his neck and shoulder. He grunted in pain but didn't scream out and then the world was sliding into blackness and right before everything went dark he thought he heard, "My ghost made solid."

~~~***~~~

Waking up was a surprise. Waking up still breathing even more so. He was weak and lethargic and his whole body ached but his shoulder was only sore. He reached up to touch what he thought was going to be a ragged wound and found only undamaged skin that was tender to the touch.

"You are awake," a deep voice said and Hannibal was glad he didn't jump or squeal like a little girl.

He turned his head to see Drake standing there in his very human form. His very nude human form, and then Hannibal realized something else--all he was wearing was the amulet. He struggled to sit up and got his first look at where he was...lying on the sleeping bag that rested upon the platform that would have been Drake's bed. Damn.

"Yes," he finally said, his throat a little sore. "Why am I still alive?"

Drake chuckled softly and walked closer until he could run a finger down Hannibal's cheek and jaw.

Hannibal was feeling lost. The body in front of him was warm, he could feel the heat radiating off of it. The body was hot, actually and Hannibal couldn't comprehend how he could be thinking that right at the moment. But he was. He was thinking about how it would feel to run his hands over the smooth skin and strong muscles. Right now he was happy that he'd always been an equal opportunity lover or he'd be having more than one quiet freak out.

"My ghost is a seer and cannot figure that out?"

Hannibal was confused, that was all there was to it. He had to be dreaming. "How do you even speak English?" is what came out of his mouth.

Drake chuckled again and moved so that he straddled Hannibal's thighs with his knees but didn't put his weight on Hannibal's legs, just used the new position to stare into Hannibal's eyes.

"You taught me," Drake answered. "Many years ago."

Hannibal didn't know what to do with his hands. He didn't know what to think of Drake, of the King of Vampires all but sitting in his lap. His very naked lap. And how the hell had he taught Drake English.

"Can you move?" he finally asked, pushing on Drake's chest.

Touching Drake had been the wrong thing to do. Drake's skin was soft and warm and Hannibal had a moment where his thoughts were all about sex before the first vision grabbed him. 

He saw himself through Drake's eyes as the vampire had pulled the intruder toward himself and forced Hannibal's neck to the side. Tasted the sweet taste of warm blood. Then caught the scent of spice and sandalwood as his hand connected with the amulet. Felt the shock ripple through Drake. Felt the shift as Drake shifted from one form into another and then bathed Hannibal's neck with a very human tongue. When the blood was cleaned away Drake bent down and lifted Hannibal into his arms and carried him back to his chambers where he laid Hannibal gently on the raised platform before rooting through the pack and finding the sleeping bag.

The images shifted for a moment and the room shone in light and fine silks and fabrics, pillows cushioning the platform that was partially surrounded by tapestries. Hannibal felt himself lounging on the platform and through Drake's eyes saw himself as he looked when Danica had turned him against his will. He wasn't exactly solid--but not totally see-through either--and he could see why Drake had called him a ghost. Hannibal's memories during his time as a vampire were still jumbled and he'd never taken the time to try and fix that. He'd wanted to forget so he had ignored them--tossed them to the back of his mind and tried to bury them.

Now some of them were coming back. He had been here. How had he been able to be here...there? He'd never been able to interact with what he saw, but then again he'd never met something that wasn't human to begin with. No matter what Drake portrayed to the world, he wasn't fully human. Might not even have been partially human for that matter. But it seemed Hannibal had taught the King of Vampires all about the twentieth century; including teaching him English. Now Drake was awake in the twenty-first century and sitting on his lap.

Hannibal's focus shifted again and he knew the pain he was feeling was the anti-serum, the vampire cure ripping him away from the past and back fully into the present. He saw himself looking at Drake, smiling, laughing, and flirting and then yelling for the pain to stop--the anti-serum pumping through his veins, taking him away from his safe haven. Danica had thought him complacent but now Hannibal knew he had somehow split his mind and when he could no longer deal with the Talos' or other vampires he had latched onto Drake. How was still the question? 

The answer came to him. The amulet. It must have been in the storage room where he had slept. It was where half the crates he'd stolen had come from. Maybe. God, his head hurt and then his vision was coming back to the immediate past. To Drake rolling out the sleeping bag and shifting him to lay on top of it. Drake finding the cooler and finishing off the remaining blood that was inside. To stripping him and massaging more of the oil into his muscles. To laying down beside him. Then came the moment when Drake slit his own wrist and fed his blood to Hannibal.

Hannibal jerked away from Drake with enough force that he was able to dislodge Drake from his lap. "What did you do?" he demanded, rolling backwards off the platform and to his feet. Keeping the stone platform between him and Drake. He didn't even care that they were both naked. "What did you do?" he asked again. "What will your blood do to me?"

He didn't want to be a vampire again.

Drake slanted his head to the right and then making a decision stepped up onto the platform and began walking towards Hannibal. Hannibal began backing up until his back hit the wall and Drake was standing within a few feet of him. "Tell me," Hannibal whispered.

"I have made you more."

"More, more what?" Hannibal was no longer feeling tired and he didn't like feeling cornered. But he didn't see a way out without having to touch Drake again and Hannibal wasn't sure how that was going to end. There had been something else seeping through the memories he had recovered. The sandalwood and other spice mixture hadn't been...he'd pointed out mixing those together. Drake had added them to the water because Hannibal could smell them when the other man bathed in it. It had been his idea when...they'd been all but lovers towards the end--before the anti-serum had ripped him away from the past.

Drake raised his right hand to gently cup Hannibal's face. His thumb softly glided back and forth over Hannibal's left cheek. "You were never human, my seer," Drake told him, moving in closer so that there were only a few inches between them.

"Hannibal," Hannibal corrected. "My name is Hannibal. I came here to stop them from waking you," he wasn't sure why he was babbling when what he wanted to know was what Drake meant by _made you more_ but he couldn't stop himself. "To stop the hunters from releasing something that would slowly kill us all. To stop the war. From us being on different sides."

"I saw," Drake said, closing the last few inches between. "We will stop your nightmares from coming true." 

Hannibal felt Drake's breath on his neck and tried not to shiver but as the other man's tongue began to lap at the area Drake had bit he felt himself relax. Felt his body tense for other reasons and he pulled Drake into him. Let his own hands roam the body leaning into his.

He dragged Drake's head away from his neck and brought their lips together. The kiss was rough and Hannibal wanted more and Drake wanted control. He hitched his leg around Drake's thigh and both their bodies reacted to the movement. Then he was lying on his back on top of the sleeping bag and Drake was stretched out above him.

"Do you want answers to your questions, my seer, my Hannibal?"

Hannibal grabbed Drake's head in both of his hands. "Later," he said, pulling Drake down for another kiss and spreading his legs wider so Drake could settle closer into his body. Later. He'd want the talking later, after...Hannibal was losing his thoughts as Drake sucked and licked and tasted every part of him and right now answers were the last thing on his mind.

~~~***~~~

Sex with the King of all Vampires was fantastic. Awesome. Brilliant. Almost any synonym for one of those would work. His body ached in a good way and he felt better than he had since before Danica had made him a vampire.

Drake was laying beside him, or maybe it was under him as Hannibal had his head on Drake’s shoulder and one leg thrown over Drake's. "Tell me," he said, when he felt Drake stir.

"My home is gone," Drake said instead.

Hannibal placed his hand on Drake's chest, over where a human's heart would be before sliding it up so his fingers could just graze Drake's amulet. "Yes," he said soft. "It's been empty for almost a thousand years. I doubt anyone actually knows this is here unless they stumble upon it."

"I see," Drake said, his hand tightening onto Hannibal's forearm. "And there are no other..." there was a pause as Drake searched for the right word. "Daywalkers besides the hybrid you mentioned."

Hannibal hadn't mentioned Blade, but Blade had shown up in his visions and Hannibal had figured out that Drake could see parts of the visions when he fed.

"I am unaware of any more like you," Hannibal answered.

"My mother had many children," Drake said. "But her blood made what you call vampire."

"Then your siblings were like you?"

"No," Drake said and even Hannibal could hear the sadness in the response. "My mother was not alone. There were others of her kind when she came to this realm. But she rebelled and fell in love with a human."

"She made a name for herself even if history got it wrong."

Drake chuckled. "I do not know. Perhaps one influenced the other. Human blood was like fine wine to her. She drank and for a few special humans she gave them her blood. It gave them strength and long life. She fell in love and bore her human husband children. I am the only one granted my mother's form, her powers, her taste for blood. Her other children were human, but gifted. Soon though the humans she gave the gift to began to try and replicate the gift. They became the vampires you know of today. Her love died, her human children began to age and have children of their own. Soon she was forgotten."

"Then you are not the Vampire King?" Hannibal questioned.

"I ruled them. I controlled them. I am their king."

"But you did not create them though?"

"No, and when my mother left, when she returned to her realm, they called me King because I was like her."

"And the others that came with your mother from the other realm?"

"Seers, Healers, Guardians. They bred with humans and millennia later their bloodlines are still around but they too left."

Hannibal nodded. Him, he was a descendant of Lilith's people. "Have you..." and how did he ask his next question--like a bandage on skin in one quick move. "Have you given your blood to others?"

Drake shifted them so that Hannibal was lying on his back and Drake was straddling his waist. Drake grazed his fingers back and forth over Hannibal's chest. "Yes," he answered, leaning down to take Hannibal's mouth in a kiss.

Hannibal wasn't sure how to take that answer. He felt jealous and he didn't like it. "Were they lovers?"

Drake shook his head. "Companions to keep me company. Daywalkers. Some even children of my mother's people," Drake answered, taking Hannibal's mouth for another kiss.

"What will it do to me, your blood?" Hannibal asked as soon as the kiss was broken, hands finding purchase on Drake's shoulders.

"Make you mine."

"Tell me," Hannibal all but ordered while gently massaging his fingers into the muscles of Drake's shoulders.

"Immortal," Drake moaned softly. "My constant companion. My love. My heart. My beautiful seer."

Hannibal thought that was a tall order and licked his lips. He could do it. He was willing to do it. He had fallen in love in the past--in Drake's past and now they needed to move forward. "And if I want to destroy all those that call you king?" he asked.

"Most are not my concern," Drake answered. "I went to ground hoping you would return to me."

Hannibal looked up into the brown of Drake's eyes and felt like he was drowning. He touched the amulet that swayed from Drake's neck.

"I had one made for you," Drake said, touching Hannibal's own amulet with such reverence that Hannibal felt the heartache that Drake must have felt when Hannibal disappeared.

"I had my people search for the right stone," and Hannibal knew the _my people_ meant the daywalkers, the friends that Drake had given immortality to and not the vampires. Perhaps they would find Drake's companions.

"I looked for a stone the color of your eyes," Drake continued. "I thought if I washed it in my blood. Used it to smooth the edges. Soaked it in my blood and your scent, I could use the amulet to hold you to me. To bring you back when you were taken. Make you solid."

Hannibal rolled them over and kissed his way up Drake's chest, paying special attention to the juncture at neck and shoulder. He sucked and nipped until Drake was moaning and arching up.

"It worked," he said. "Just took time, but I will be by your side throughout the future. And if they still live, we will find your friends," he said.

"I will rid the world of the ones that caused you pain," Drake promised and Hannibal grinned.

He took Drake's mouth in a searing kiss. They would stop the virus, stop the deaths from his visions, then disappear. Become like ghosts themselves, travel the world, but neither would ever again walk alone.

**~end~**


End file.
